Home By Another Way
by Fredlyn
Summary: Max returns to Earth.


Home By Another Way/PG/Thanks to Zen for the idea and betaing.

Drenched to the bone he shifted the duffel's weight and pulled his ratty Army field jacket tightly around him as he trudged down the dark deserted highway. Earlier in the day, he had welcomed the rain. The sun had beat down hot upon him as he walked the barren bypass. The cool rain had refreshed him; washing away some of the grime of the road. But now, added with the night chill, it had become one more burden his weary body had to bare.  
  
He had lost track of the time he had spent on the road long ago. At first he'd enjoyed the freedom of traveling the open highways with no destination in mind. He was simply content to just be back on Earth. After years of fighting a war on a planet far away, he'd delighted in the peace he found roaming the country, bound for nowhere. He'd stop for coffee at the roadside truck stop and quietly sip his drink, listening to the stories of the truckers perched on their stools at the counter. Eventually the towns all started to look the same and the neon lights beckoning at the exit ramps became a blur. His days and nights blended to an endless passage of time and the loneliness started to creep into his soul.  
  
When his nights were at their most desolate and the darkness seemed to go on forever, that was when he thought of her. The only woman he ever loved. The curve of her face, the large eyes always looking at him and the world in wonder. He remembered the warmth of her smile and tenderness of her touch. He had each precious moment memorized for nights like this, nights where it would be the only thing that would keep him warm.  
  
He'd entertained the thought of going home when he'd first returned to Earth. Hoping that she'd waited for him. But thinking back on how he'd treated her before he left; he'd tossed the notion aside. He had broken, maybe even destroyed her. Maybe it had been unknowingly, but he still had. He had taken the unconditional love she offered and thrown it in her face, running to another in a moment of weakness. He had taken that love for granted and then at the end closed his eyes to what he should have seen.  
  
Shivering, he quickened his pace to warm his body and to shake the unwelcome thoughts from his mind. The lights from an oncoming car blinded him. He stuck out his thumb, praying that someone would stop and give him a ride to the nearest town where he could wait out the storm. Instead the person only sped up as they passed. He shrugged as he turned around and kept walking. If he were in that person's place he would probably do the same.  
  
The rain came down harder; he dropped his head to shield his eyes from the large icy pelts. Exhaustion was creeping up on him. His bones were weary, not just from this endless journey but from the years of war. He let his mind drift to shutout the cold and memories of the war began to come back to him. The thoughts were always accompanied by pain and emptiness and tonight was no exception. So many good people had given their lives for him. Fighting and dying because of some misplaced loyalty to a boy who they believed was their king.  
  
The guilt he felt overwhelmed him but none of those deaths compared to his sister's. The rain masked the tears that accompanied the memories of holding Isabel in his arms as she died. She had martyred herself, believing that in her death she would find atonement for her earlier betrayal. When it had first happened he had cursed her for giving her life for his, hated her for loving him that much, but now, he just despised himself for not being able to stop her, for not being able to save her.  
  
Slogging along, he shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket, trying to keep them dry and warm but it was a lost cause, the jacket was soaked through. He shook his head to the side, trying to stop the rainwater from dripping through his hair into his eyes.  
  
Pushing the memories of the war from his mind to preserve his sanity, he fantasized about what it would be like to go home. He anticipated the joy of seeing his parents again. He was almost sure they had accepted who he was. But then the cloud of doubt returned. They may never forgive him once he told them that, because of him, their daughter was dead.  
  
He thought about the others he had left behind. His impulsive and controlling manner had hurt each of them. He wondered if they had been able to pick up the pieces of their broken lives and move on. Would they be able to forgive him for all the hardships he had caused them? The questions where abundant but the answers so few.  
  
He thought about his home. Not the place but the woman, a woman who he had no right to love, a woman who once accepted him with an open heart and loved him more than he ever deserved, a woman who sacrificed everything for him, her life, her happiness and her dreams.  
  
He asked once again the questions that always gnawed at his psyche. Had she, against all reason, waited for his return, or had she given her love to another? Would she take him into her arms, bringing him into the warmth of her love or would she slam the door of her heart, shutting him out, forever, in the cold?  
  
Realizing that it would probably be a fool's journey, he berated himself the direction his thoughts had turned. Hell, it had been years since he'd seen her, years since he looked into her eyes and told her how much he loved her. She wouldn't have waited for him. It would serve him right if she was with someone else, married and in love. Justice would have prevailed if she had forgotten him altogether after what he had done.  
  
He heard another car in the distance. Trying not to get his hopes up, he turned and lifted his thumb towards the oncoming car. The car past him and he put his hand back into his pocket in defeat. Turning forward again, he hunkered deeper into his jacket and kept walking.  
  
A few moments later he looked up, noticing the car had stopped and was now backing up towards him. He hurried toward it and opened the door. The man inside motioned for him to get in.  
  
He shoved his duffel into the backseat and then jumped in the front, slamming the door and throwing his head back to shake the water from his eyes.  
  
"Where ya headed?" The man asked as soon as he got into the car.  
  
He looked thoughtfully for a moment and then on impulse he answered, "Roswell."  
  
"What's in Roswell?"  
  
He whispered his response like a prayer, "Home."  
  
The man nodded, approvingly and pulled back out onto the highway as Max sat back in his seat with a tired sigh.  
  
He wiped his wet hair back from his face and watched the white line of the highway through the windshield trying to shake off the cold. He thought about home. Some would say his home was in Roswell, others might say his home was in a galaxy light-years away but home wasn't in either of those places. Home was in Liz's arms.  
  
In the naivety of his youth, he had believed he was going home that day, years before, when he got into a ship and blasted off to Antar, but he had gotten older and he now realized he had been wrong. Today was the day he was going home, home by another way.

The End


End file.
